Good Morning
by Calliope-Beautiful Voiced
Summary: [One-shot] A tender moment between our two favorite Autobot leaders.
1. Good Morning

**Hi! I've been wanting to write a tender and fluffy story about these two for a while now. Unfortunately, whenever I tried to write a long fanfic I got stuck and couldn't finish it; so, I chose to write a one-shot.**

 **I imagined it in the Prime-verse because** ** _Transformers Prime_** **is my favorite show from the franchise.**

 **WARNING: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes here.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

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 **GOOD MORNING**

Elita was barely coming out of recharge, and still had her optics closed, when a weight behind her moved; next to this, she heard a soft groan, and felt a large arm falling protectively around her waist while a kneepad brushed against her legs. The femme smiled, knowing whose limbs those were. Her inner chronometer read nine in the morning; if they were yet at war, this would be considered a completely lack of discipline, for they would've been incredibly _late_. But that was the thing: they weren't anymore. The war was over, and even though they were yet on Earth, they were living in complete peace. At long last, all of them could resume their boring pre-war lives…

And that included her and her companion, of course.

So, with her optics still closed, pretending to still be in recharge, the femme turned around too; thanks to this, she was now facing her mate, her hands delicately placed on his chest-plates. The low rumble of a chuckle vibrated beneath her servos, right before a pair of lips pressed a gentle kiss against hers. _"Scrap"_ , Elita thought with a soft laugh, opening her optics only to end up locking gazes with her bondmate, Optimus Prime. He was smirking, indicating he didn't buy her act, not one second. It made her smirk too and shake her head in slight mockery, before allowing herself to pass her arms around his neck to hug him. His arms tightened around her too.

Without the war, without the Decepticons always knocking at their door, without Megatron, they didn't need to be commanders anymore. They could be, once again, Orion Pax and Ariel, the two Cybertronians who fell in love so long ago… At least when they were like this: in private. When in front of everyone, the mech had yet to live up to the title of Prime, being an example for everyone around him, and keeping his emotions in check most of the time. Fortunately, this didn't forbid him from having a Conjux, reason why he and Elita announced their decision in front of the whole team a couple months ago ―Fowler passed out, but everyone else took the news rather nicely and congratulated them with joyful eyes. Now that they were fully bonded, sharing the same room was only natural ―even though it wasn't at first; considering the four million years they spent away from each other, it took them a few days to become completely used to their new situation.

Letting go from the hug, both mates simply stood there, gazing each other. They felt too lazy to get up just yet; it was nice to simply remain there, pretending they overslept in, for once in their lives.

Soon, Optimus' hand started to caress the femme's back, while she did the same with his jawline; they sparks were pleading to be joined at this point, as it always happens with bonded couples. It didn't take long for them to lean in to kiss.

And they would've, if it wouldn't have been for a loud crash and the noise of something shattering that made them both jolt, sitting up in their berth, and stare at the door in alert, wondering what happened. Then, the explanation came in the form a very well-known yell:

"Bulkhead! I needed that!"

Sighing in relief, seeing it was nothing serious, both leaders turned to look at each other. There was unmistakable disappointment in their optics, since their moment was completely gone by now ―but, then again, they were sharing a base with half dozen Cybertronians; it wasn't that weird either.

In the end, Elita dedicated a smile to her Conjux.

"Another typical morning for us." She laughed.

"It would appear so." The mech agreed, joining her chortles; however, he didn't miss his chance to capture her by the chin and pull the femme into a kiss.

"It's _your_ turn to check on those two, mister." She stated, as they parted.

"I wasn't aware we were taking turns." He chuckled, getting off the berth and stretching his limbs a bit. "I will be back in ten minutes." He added, walking toward the door.

"Great. Could you tell Bulkhead and Ratchet to meet me at the training room later?" The femme asked, making her bondmate turn to look at her quizzically. She grinned with malice. "We don't get many intimate moments together, and they just ruined one…"

Optimus shook his head, softly chuckling, before walk out of the room. Truth be said, he, too, was angry for the interruption… As his mate said, their moments alone tended to be few and short ―with the team and the children roaming around the base all the time, it was to be expected―, so whenever an opportunity arrived, they tried to enjoy it as much as possible.

By the time he stepped into the control room, where Ratchet was yet ranting at a very ashamed Bulkhead, waving around a, now, destroyed piece of equipment, the leader couldn't help but feel pity for his friends. Elita was serious when she told him to send them her way.

That femme trained with him; she was his equal in the battlefield…

She was going to scrap them…

 **THE END?**

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 **I hope you liked to read it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **See ya, some other time!**


	2. Bonus Track

**This _was supposed_ to be a one-shot only, but XinterestingX's comment about Ratchet's and Bulkhead's reaction gave me this idea; and I had too much fun imagining the whole thing not to write it down! Thanks! XD**

 **Thanks to Skyshadow54 and EquinusPrime for their reviews too! To know that you enjoyed the story makes me happy!**

 **However, even though it was meant to be solely about those two getting scrapped by the femme commander, the story slowly evolved into something else, reason why I added the 'Humor' gender at the fic's description. I also raised the classification to 'T', because of Optimus' and Elita's scene in the end… Maybe I'm just paranoid...**

 **Hope you all will like it!**

 **Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Transformers_ franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

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The children were peacefully playing a videogame at their usual spot, minding their own businesses, when a high-pitched scream echoed through the base making them jump on their spot. It seemed to come all the way from the training room, which was located at the farthest end of the base, and it sounded like… Ratchet? Then, another scream followed. Was that Bulkhead? The kids exchanged a questioning look. What was going on?

Not too long after, Fowler appeared from his office, wondering the same. Unfortunately, there was no bot currently at the control room, so none of them had a clue, nor someone to ask; so, the agent gestured the teens to wait where they were, while he went to check it out. That said, he started to walk toward the back of the joint.

"Last time I heard Bulkhead screaming like a little girl, we were fighting the scraplets…" Miko commented, a hand on the side of her hip.

"You think they found more?" Rafael asked her, receiving a shrug.

"I don't think so… I mean, last time _we_ brought them in, remember?" Jack told his companions, scratching his head, confused.

Meanwhile, the agent was already entering the training room, where he was met by the weirdest sight ever: the collected and sweet Elita-One was literally grinding the Wrecker and the medic with a ferocity that nobody has ever seen outside the battlefield. She was unforgiving, throwing everything she had against the two mechs, who were trying to take cover behind any crate or column they could find ―even if that meant using the other as a shield. Fowler couldn't help but stare at the scene with a dropped jaw, seeing the Wrecker getting overpowered by a femme that was way smaller and thinner than him. _"And Prime had the guts to marry her?"_ He thought, still unable to look away, move or do anything at all.

Meanwhile, none of the two mechs were daring to throw a single punch in Elita's way, knowing better than pissing the 'Lady Boss Bot' (as Wheeljack called her) any further. In the blink of an eye, Ratchet got grabbed by the pink Cybertronian, who applied a steely grip around his arm, before pulling him into a deadly lock. Soon, the medic was pinned, with his face against the floor; his right arm behind his back, and the commander's knee piercing his waist's armor. Seeing this, the Wrecker thought the femme was distracted enough as to attempt an escape… Another high-pitched scream left Bulkhead's vocalizer when Elita called him, asking where he thought he was going. Turning around and plastering himself against the wall, he stared into the blazing blue optics of the fem-bot. _"So, this is what the 'Cons felt whenever she ran into the battlefield?! I'm pitying Bucket-Head right now!"_ The green bot thought, feeling his knee-joints quivering.

"W-wha-whatever we did, we're sorry!" Bulkhead finally cried.

"Y-yes! We-…! Ugh! We'll be more careful!" Ratchet strained, feeling his arm going numb.

Just like that, Elita's battle-mask deactivated, revealing a sweet smile; and she let go from the white and orange mech.

"Apology accepted." She said, cheerfully, getting up and dusting herself off. Despite of all the exercise, she wasn't a bit tired.

Then, she started to walk toward the door. However, before leaving, she turned to look at the two mechs, and almost pleaded them to be more careful and to keep their fighting down (especially in the mornings) from then on. With a final nod from both mechs, she was gone.

"All this… 'Cause our quarrel woke her up?" Bulkhead wondered, bending over and supporting on his knee-joints, venting erratically.

" _Puh-lease_!" Ratchet scoffed, rolling his optics and getting up. "Elita is the living definition of the human expression 'morning bird'!" He stated, dusting himself off. "The only bot I've ever met to actually wake up earlier than her is Opt-…!"

The medic froze on the spot, optics wide and systems overheating at the realization of what truly happened that morning.

"Uh… Ratch? You ok?" The Wrecker asked, walking up to the medic, fearing he was suffering a glitch.

"I…" The old mech cleared his throat. "I think I just figured what truly happened this morning…" He said, avoiding eye-contact with his companion and scratching the back of his neck.

"Really? What was it?"

"Um… Well…" Ratchet found hard to say it out loud... It was as if his processor just couldn't remain cold and professional when the explanation involved two of his best friends. In the end, he sighed and looked at the Wrecker. "She and Optimus are bonded, Bulkhead; yet, they haven't had much time for themselves as of lately…"

The green bot first arched an optic-ridge, until the information fell into place, reason why his eyes widened in realization as he mouthed an 'Oh'. Yeah, he would be ticked off too…

Feeling bad for it, the warrior observed the door for a moment before turning to look at the physician again.

"Do yah think the boss will…?" He asked, pointing at the way out.

The older Autobot snorted and shook his head, starting to walk toward the exit.

"No. Optimus has always been the calmer of the two; at most, he'll ask us to keep it down in the mornings too, or to have a better control over our emotions." Like that, he shrugged off the idea of his old friend behaving like his mate. "Primus knows he _has_ told me that in the past…" He mumbled, averting his optics.

"Good, 'cause I don't think I would survive a spar against the boss." Bulkhead laughed, relieved. Then, an idea popped in his processor: "Do yah think they're trying for a sparkling?"

"No. Not _yet_ , at least; I mean…" The doctor looked for words. "For one thing, they've been away from each other for far too long; and, besides, if they were, they would've given me a heads up. After all, I'm their physician."

Right at that moment, a soft thud made both of them look at the catwalk the team installed for the humans a few weeks ago, noticing the unconscious form of Fowler lying on it.

"The scrap?" Ratchet asked with an arched eyebrow.

"What happened to him?" The warrior wondered.

… … …

Next morning found the Prime still on his berth, calmly reading a data-pad. He has been doing so for over thirty minutes or so; usually, he would be up and around already, but when he noticed that Elita decided to use him as a pillow, the large mech decided to wait for her to come out of recharge too. Besides, nobody else would wake up before seven, and it wasn't even six in the morning yet. He checked his inner chronometer. Five and a half. Still early enough… Back to his reading; although, it got interrupted by a stirring pink femme who was coming back online.

As her azure optics opened, he put away the data-pad and greeted his bondmate. Elita, still a bit groggy, blinked a couple times before the message registered and she offered a smile to Optimus. With a kiss, both leaders slid their legs off the berth, and started to prepare for the day.

"How long have you been up?" She wondered, stretching her back and trying not to yawn.

"Not long." He said, going toward their private wash rack.

She smirked and cut his way.

"I saw the pad, Pax…" The femme challenged him, crossing her arms and ankles, leaning against the wash rack's door.

Sighing, and shaking his head, he admitted to have been awake for thirty minutes or so, but that he didn't want to wake her up. A tingle in his spark, told the mech that his bondmate was up to something; so, when she simply nodded and got off the door as to let him pass, he was prepared for whatever prank she was about to play him…

Indeed, she tried to take over the shower before he could even set a foot inside the room. _"One of those mornings, then…"_ He chuckled, deciding to skip the simulated dispute over this section of their quarters, and straightforward asking the femme if she wanted to share the wash rack.

And, of course, she agreed… It always amazed him how, despite they weren't younglings anymore, Elita could, sometimes, behave like one, compelling him to do the same.

Once they were done and ready for the daily activities, both leaders came out of their shared quarters and refueled, before going to the control room to set everything up. And, around seven, Ratchet joined them and took over the mainframe. The others wouldn't come out of recharge for another half hour, and it was yet early to go and pick up the children; plus it was Sunday, and they sure would appreciate for the bots to let them sleep a bit longer. Nonetheless, the proximity sensor warned the three Autobots of an incoming visitor, who turned to be no other than Agent Fowler, of course.

The moment he entered the place, they all noticed the human was engrossed in some reports he was reading with a frown in his face. Nobody has seen him in such a mood ever since the war ended, reason why they feared something was wrong. After all, they were yet some rogue Decepticons out there… Then again, he would've come at them yelling if that happened to be the case.

"Agent Fowler." Optimus called…

And the agent dropped everything with a yelp, surprising both leaders who stared at him, not understanding why their liaison seemed scared of a simple greeting. However, what truly made them arch an eyebrow was how he, first, became a bit pale when turning to greet them back… Only to, suddenly, become redder.

Elita and Optimus exchanged a worried, yet quizzical, look.

"Are you alright, Agent Fowler?" The femme wondered.

"Y-yeah!" He answered, way too fast, and way too high-pitched. None of the leaders bought that. "Y-you j-just… Surprised me! That's all!" He lied, averting eye contact and mentally cursing himself for stuttering.

"Are you-…?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm ok!" The human interrupted the Prime's question ―which was 'are you in need of assistance?' and not 'are you sure?' as he assumed. "I'm-…! I'm just gonna take all this paperwork to my office, and that's it, ok?" He kept saying, frantically picking up all the papers he dropped. Then, he hurriedly got to the small room he claimed as his office within the bots base, and opened the door. "I'll be here if anyone needs me!" He quickly entered and closed the door. A few instants later, he reopened it and pocked out his head, looking at the bots in the room. "Oh! Um… Good morning?" That said, he locked himself inside the human-sized room.

Inside the control room, two out of three Cybertronians were staring down the closed door in confusion.

"Was it just me, or was he acting a bit erratic?" Elita questioned, looking at her mate.

"According to the children, he fainted yesterday for unknown reasons…" Optimus commented.

"Huh? Really? He hasn't crashed since the 'Cons got toast." The femme recalled, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side.

"Ratchet," The Prime called, making the poor physician muster all his self-control not to lose his calm. "According to Jack and the others, you were the one who found him. Did you notice what may have triggered it?"

"No. I just found him lying unconscious at one of the catwalks…" The white and orange mech answered, shrugging and shaking his head in false ignorance, before resuming his duties.

If those two got to know that the agent's brain glitched because Bulkhead and himself were trying to calculate when they were planning to become creators, there would be no corner in the universe to protect him from Elita's anger… And quite possibly Optimus' too…

 **THE END**

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 **Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!**

 **Bye!**


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